


Preludes and Innuendo

by ThroughTheTulips



Series: 30 Days of Sabriel: An Erratic OTP Challenge By A Lazy Author [10]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel/Dean Winchester UST, Come on, M/M, Moondor shows up here, Other, UST, also this challenge has too many clothing prompts, and we all know what ears sam would end up with, animal ear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-22
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-26 14:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2656139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughTheTulips/pseuds/ThroughTheTulips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam gets a big idea on how to track the Leviathan and Dean gets hit by the aforementioned clue bus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preludes and Innuendo

**Author's Note:**

> There’s some serious Destiel mixing in with my Sabriel, but never fear- this is still a Sabriel fic.
> 
> I am fully aware that Charlie didn’t start LARPing until she was Carrie Heinlein in canon, but hey, Gabriel’s alive and he’s putting the moves on Sammy, so I feel justified in taking a few artistic liberties. She’ll be back later, too.

**30 Day OTP Challenge**

    Day Ten: Wearing Animal Ears  

 

_In Which Family Always Find Each Other, Even in AUs_

 

            A few weeks passed slowly while they waited on word from Heaven. Twice Gabriel disappeared mid-sentence, returning later to report dead Leviathan. “At least we’re sure now,” he told them the second time. “Sneaky little bastards. I wish the host would just catch one alive for me, but my siblings are way too smite-happy. This is what I need you guys for, good ol’ human common sense.”

            “Not that we’re not thrilled to be your hired guns, but what exactly are you looking to get out of these guys?” Dean asked from where he was cleaning weapons at the table. “They’re monsters, we kill monsters. What’s the point in dragging them in for a chat?”

            “Leviathan are controlled by their leader,” Castiel said. He lifted his book politely so Dean could grab the whetstone. “If we could find the leader- their alpha- Gabriel could banish all of them.”

            Sam blinked. “Alpha, that’s from the book you gave me, right, Gabriel? The first Leviathan?”

            “Yeah. All the monsters have them. Leviathan are a little different, though, cause- get this- they even eat each other sometimes. Whoever eats the alpha becomes the new alpha, so there’s a lot of incentive to be bloodthirsty if you’re on top.” The archangel sprawled across one of the beds. “I could use the alpha like a key, send them all back to Purgatory with one snap. I’ve just got to figure out who it is and get my hands on it.”

            The hunter gave that some thought. “Um. Could you tell me what clues you’re looking for?” Both angels turned to stare at him, curious, and he explained, “Ash made a sort of tracking program for demonic signs. It sifts through media reports, social media, that sort of thing and puts up hot spots. It makes sense that we could, you know, put in different criteria and find Leviathan.”

            Gabriel jumped up and lifted Sam off his feet to spin him around. “I could kiss you. Wait, I’m _gonna_ kiss you.” He caught his boyfriend’s mouth in an exuberant caramel-flavored kiss. “That’s genius, and they might not even expect it. Maybe they think they’re only hiding from angels.”

            “Yeah, one problem there Romeo,” Dean said, checking the edge on his knife.  “Ash’s program was on his computer which burned in the Roadhouse. Even if we had it, he didn’t exactly use Microsoft Excel. None of us know how to use it.”

            The archangel set Sam down. “Not a problem. Gimme this and sit tight.”

            He grabbed the laptop, snapped his fingers, and disappeared. Dean smirked at Sam’s breathless expression. “Did you enjoy your little damsel moment?”

Sam made a face, though there wasn’t much force behind it because he actually _did_. He’d never been with anyone strong enough to spin him around. A little shiver told him he might have found one of those embarrassing kinks Gabriel kept looking for. “Shut up, Dean. Cas, do you know where he went?”

            “I would assume Heaven.” Castiel set the book aside. “Your friend Ash is there. Gabriel probably wishes to find this program, maybe resurrect-”

            A faint pop of air announced Gabriel’s return. “Okay, first of all everyone at the Big Roadhouse In The Sky says hi,” he announced, putting the laptop back on the table. “I’m supposed to give you chuckleheads this.”

            He wrapped Sam in a bear hug. Feeling his eyes water, Sam hugged back harder than usual. “From Ellen?”

            “From everyone. Oh, and this is from Pamela.” He pressed a smacking kiss to Sam’s lips, then bounced across the room. Dean slid his chair back. “Dude, no, I’m not kissing my brother’s boyfriend.”

            “You’re not kissing me,” Gabriel said with a smirk. “You’re kissing Pamela.” He made a playful grab. The hunter jumped out of the way, colliding with Castiel, and Gabriel waggled his eyebrows. “Well, one angel’s as good as another. Want to pass on the greeting, little bro?”

            Castiel steadied Dean, then moved in front of him. “No. Our first kiss will not be for Pamela.”

            The whetstone fell from Dean’s hand. “First?” he blurted, eyes wide. “Cas, what- did you mean-” He glanced around, shoulders hunching, and dug the Impala keys from his coat. “I’ve, uh, gotta-”

            “If you finish that sentence with anything but ‘talk this over like grown adults’ I’m making you bald for a week,” Gabriel threatened. “Sammitch and I will go see if my hacker friend can handle Ash’s program. You two stay here and deal with your shit.”

            Sam tensed. Here it came. This was the part where Dean tossed off a sarcastic comment, or made a joke, or said something awful. This was where he sabotaged himself like he did whenever it looked like something good might happen. Things had been relatively peaceful lately, downright pleasant, and it just figured that-

            “Yeah,” Dean said quietly, interrupting his brother’s thoughts. He tucked the keys back in his pocket and raised his eyes to Castiel’s. There were two high spots of color in his cheeks, but he didn’t look like he was about to run. “Yeah, that’s… that should happen. Call us if you need back-up, though, all right?”

            “You got it. C’mon, hot stuff.”

            Gabriel snapped both fingers. The room disappeared from around them. In its place was a cheerful yellow tent with pillows scattered around the ground. Gabriel spread his arms. “Whatdya think?”

            Sam was still processing. “Did you do something?”

            The archangel raised an eyebrow. “I flew us to Michigan. Farmington Hills, specifically.”

            “No, I mean to Dean. He just… stayed.” That didn’t seem to make an impression, so he elaborated, “Dean passed on a job to _talk_. About _feelings_. Did you do something to him?”

            “What, right in front of Cassie? No, that was all Dean-o.” Gabriel wandered over to a wooden chest and began rummaging through it, pulling out an improbable number of costumes. “To be honest I’m as surprised as you are. I thought for sure he’d go storming out in a storm of offended heterosexuality.”

            That made Sam laugh. “Yeah, that sounds more like him. Maybe with us together he realizes no one would care. I mean, Bobby didn’t blink an eye.”

            “I hate to say this, but other hunters aren’t likely to be as enlightened. There’s a reason I don’t hang around when Bobby’s got a full house.”

            Sam caught his partner’s arm, frowning. “You don’t have to hide. I’m not ashamed of you, Gabriel.”

            The archangel rocked up on tiptoe to tap Sam’s nose. “I know. Doesn’t mean I like making your life complicated.”

            “You _love_ making my life complicated.”

            “Got me there, kiddo.” Gabriel gave the clothing chest a disappointed look. “Okay, you’re way too big for everything in here. This is an in-character event, costumes mandatory, so...”

            He raised both hands and snapped. Sam felt his clothing shiver, then get- tighter? Looser? He turned to peek in a nearby mirror. The costume made him look like a fantasy pirate: tight pants, leather vest, sheer white shirt open to his navel, and a scimitar dangling from a bright red sash. Though he could move easily, the pants left very little to the imagination. “Is this a stripper convention?”

            “No, but I like the way you think.” The archangel sported a long purple coat, striped pants, and a feathered tricorne hat. Gold braid lined everything but the buckled shoes, and a brightly colored stuffed parrot sat on his shoulder. Gabriel peered into a mirror. “Not fantasy enough. We need something else.”

            “Fantasy? Are we at a renaissance faire?” Sam went to look out the flap. Around two hundred people roamed around a wide clearing ringed with tents. If his costume made him feel silly, he felt better seeing what some of the others were wearing. The outfits ranged from Tudor style dresses to decorative chain mail bikinis. Nearly everyone carried some sort of weapon. He looked closer and saw that most of the weapons were padded sticks with carved hilts. Every live blade had a peace knot tying it into its scabbard.

            Some of the crowd wore creature makeup done well enough to make Sam check for his silver knife before he remembered he was with an archangel. Gabriel was more than a match for anyone here, even if the monsters were real. He was pretty sure orcs were imaginary, anyway.

            The same red banner hung from every available perch in the encampment: a crescent moon surrounded by stars on a red field. He didn’t recognize it from anywhere in history. Didn’t Faire Folk usually push for authenticity? “Seriously, where are we?”

            “Moondor, Sammykins. Live action fantasy roleplaying, and not the kind with whipped cream either. The big skirmish is tomorrow, so the queen’ll be going over battle plans in her quarters. That’s who we’re here to see.” His boyfriend joined him, now sporting a curled mustache and beard. “We go way back.”

            Sam didn’t expect the twinge of jealousy. “How far back?”

            “Easy, tiger, she’s human. Also she doesn’t swing my way, not in this shape. We met at Comic Con two years before my Long Nap. Talked her into getting this sweet Star Wars tattoo.” Gabriel slid something heavy over Sam’s hair. The hunter reached up to feel and got his hand slapped away. “Don’t mess with them, they’re perfect.”

            “They?”

            Gabriel produced a pair of furry red ears and arranged them on his hat. “They don’t let just anyone meet with the queen,” he said with a grin. “But fuzzy pirate kings come to pledge their loyalty get a pass, especially when they have outrageously handsome bodyguards.”

            The mirror showed Sam a truly magnificent pair of antlers rising from behind furry brown ears. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “You’re an archangel. Can’t you zap us into her tent?”

            “Not unless you want to explain angels to her War Council, who are probably in there. C’mon, lighten up. You make a sexy moose pirate.”

            Laughter won, and Sam adjusted the antlers more securely on his head. They were actually kind of fun. “Okay, lead on, Captain.”

            “Oooh, I like that.” Gabriel pulled a rather dashing tail from one pocket and clipped it on. “Any of this working for you? You know I won’t judge if you turn out to have extra weird kinks, right?”

            “Um. Not this, but…” A quick memory of earlier, being scooped up like he was made of feathers, had the hunter ducking his head. “I’ll tell you later, all right?”

            When he peeked up Gabriel wore a troubled expression under his mustache. “Sam, I’m not going to hurt you.”

            “I know.”

            “No, I mean I’m not-” The archangel blew out a frustrated breath and tried again. “If what you want is for me to hurt you, I can’t. Really. I know what happened to you in Hell and I won’t do that. Any of it. If it’s something you can’t live without I’ll snap you up some playmates, but I can’t watch you get hurt and not stop it. That’s not a thing I can do.”

            A warm little flicker chased Sam’s embarrassment away. He reached out to straighten the stuffed parrot. “I know, Gabriel,” he said softly. “I don’t want you to hurt me. I want you to hold me. Just that, all right?”

            He replayed the memory, focusing on the strong feeling of comfort and safety he’d had, and the worry eased from Gabriel’s face. “A cuddle fetish. Huh. I hate to admit it, but Dean’s right. You are a sap.”

            “You love it.”

            “Among other things, yeah.” He nudged the parrot crooked again. “Let’s go see the queen. Maybe she’ll let us keep the tent for the night. You know, just in case our brothers get their heads out of their asses long enough to stick something else- hey, come back, I have to go first!” Gabriel yelped, scrambling to follow Sam out of the tent. “I’m the Captain, you have to lurk at my heels and look menacing.”

            Sam stopped long enough for the shorter man to move in front. “Fine, but one more word about my brother’s ass and I’m defecting to the orcs.”

            "What about _your_  ass?"

            He tilted his head, considering. "We'll talk about it." Gabriel's fake ears actually perked up, and Sam gave him a gentle push forward. "Later, Gabriel. We have work to do."

            The archangel snorted but started walking. "Slavedriver."

           "We can talk about that too if you want."

           As it turned out, archangels could in fact trip over their own feet.


End file.
